


to the dreamer belong the spoils

by spacesix



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Dream Sex, Fantasizing, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27651727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacesix/pseuds/spacesix
Summary: Achilles finally is allowed some respite from his duties to the House. It goes about as pleasantly as he could dream of.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Achilles/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Patroclus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 410





	to the dreamer belong the spoils

It was not often that Achilles was granted the ability to retire to his chamber to rest – shades had no need for any such pleasures of the mortal realm. It was even less frequent that he found himself able to dream while he slept. Rarer still that within them, he was not plagued by memories of hot sand scorching his feet and blood itching as it dried flaky on his hands and a stained blue shroud cast upon a burning pyre.

What he found himself in the midst of at the current moment was… not that.

It wasn’t new per se, but it sure was a rarity even in the days when he had been alive to find himself braced above or below another, skin bare and muscles aching as they rolled together.

This time it was the prince himself of the Underworld that had been selected to join his bed, his legs spread wide by the weight of Achilles’ hips bearing down between them, the thin cloth layers separating their sexes damp and hot. He thought about backing off for a change, about what it might be like if he could oil the inside of Zagreus’ thighs and press them together so he could fit his cock there and hump away like a wanton teenager, about what it might be like to let them fall open again and show him how to wrap his legs around his waist and arch his back just right and be fucked by and like a mortal.

About what it would look like to be the one to replace the prince’s bubbling chatter and laughs with sighs and moans and to make him fold his arms over his face to hide the flush of exertion that came from something other than training in the yards; to be the one whose name anointed his lips as he begged.

Achilles closed his eyes, losing himself to the fantasy of removing their undergarments and preparing the lad with his fingers and tongue before spreading him wide and making love to him for real, of kissing him for real and swallowing every noise he would force from him.

He snapped to attention again at the feeling of that exact sensation, the dim stone of his chamber in the house suddenly morphing into the familiar sunlit linens of the tents he so frequently resided in during the wars across Hellas and a warbling moan greeting his ears as he sank to the root in Zagreus’ core. He leveraged himself up to sit back on his heels, intent on drinking in the sight before him while the prince adjusted.

He really was beautiful.

A new and exotic spoils of war who decorated Achilles and Patroclus’ cot surely as prettily as he had decorated the throne of the city he hailed from. Certainly as willingly too, as told by the way he gazed up at Achilles from his position on his back with sheer arousal darkening his. (Eyes that were, Achilles belatedly realized, a rich green and deep brown – all traces of the divinity they usually held gone despite their owner still being dressed in the modest but fine royal tunics he wore at the queen’s return).

He was interrupted from his reverence by Zagreus starting to rock his hips impatiently forwards against Achilles’ at the same time that the entrance to their tent was pushed open, and a broad figure entered.

Ah, the wonders of a mind left to its own devices, Achilles mused.

Patroclus looked them over with the chiding expression he always wore when Achilles decided to start something without him as he closed the curtain behind himself. For all his exasperation at being left out, though, he seemed to be taking his sweet time disrobing and setting his armor and spear away before joining them at the side of the cot.

To Achilles' own exasperation, his lover didn’t even bother to properly greet him on approach, instead leaning down to whisper something into Zagreus’ ear too quiet for Achilles to pick up. It was probably a good enough secret to be interrupted for if their shared grin and nod was anything – or if that weren’t enough, the way one of Pat’s hands came to push Zagreus’ skirts up around his waist and tease along the skin from his navel down to where he was stretched around Achilles' girth while the other tilted his chin into a not-so-chaste kiss was a tempting indicator.

He wanted to beg for his time here to move slower, but in his mind’s desperation the transition between Pat enticing them with forceful kisses to flip their positions so he was on his back with Zagreus perched in his lap to the oiled fingers probing into Zagreus’ already stuffed hole to ease him further open to the glorious feeling of his cock pressing in beside his own centimeter by centimeter.

They stayed motionless for what must have been full minutes, basking in the sensation of their cocks throbbing against each other in time with their hearts and Zagreus’ body a tight, hot, shivering, _eager_ vise around them.

All three of them were left gasping. Their air of Elysium itself could not have tasted as sweet as this moment.

Patroclus reached forward, pulling Achilles' hand from Zagreus’ waist to take it in his own and twine their fingers. Achilles squeezed once, and Patroclus returned it with a sly smile. 

A breathless, whiney plea from the boy between them severed as permission for them to chase their pleasure; to fuck each other through him in firm, bodies rowing in steady strokes that came and went in opposing tandem that left him full at every moment.

Achilles couldn’t help but moan aloud at the view: Zagreus above him with his legs splayed askew and hands clenched tight in the fabric of his clothes, runching them up enough to where Achilles could watch where he took him – where he took _them_ – so well; and Patroclus kneeling behind the lad with eyes half-lidded in desire and frame fluid as he lost himself to the action.

In their frantic pace, they all knew no one would last long.

Achilles wished he had been brokered into doing this as his task for eternity as a shade.

Though, that would be a paradise not even the greatest of heroes could hope to be gifted.

Zagreus came first, reaching his peak with a choked sob and a rush of slick that made Achilles’ and Patroclus’ continuing thrusts slide easier, _faster_ , as his body turned molten hot around them. He likely would have collapsed forward entirely onto Achilles’ chest had it not been for one of Patroclus’ arms wrapping around his middle, holding him back upright against his chest.

Patroclus himself wasn’t long after, sinking his teeth into the exposed skin of Zagreus’ shoulder to muffle his moans and gripping Achilles’ hand tight as his hips stuttered to a stop.

Achilles gasped awake after one, two, three more particularly harsh thrusts of his own that threw him over the edge of pleasure; nearly choking on his breath as the dream broke open and he found himself rutting into soiled blankets.

Gods, what a mess. He rolled over onto his back, taking care to avoid smears of his release that would surely stain as he caught his breath.

His buried his face in his hands as some part of shame overcame him.

The prince was slated to train with him again in what would be a few hours time, and the pleasure-exhausted expression that had adorned the lad’s sweaty face in those last few moments was burned into his memory.

Patroclus would be waiting for him in his secluded gardens afterward, to take him into his arms and take hold of his heart in that way that made him want to confess to all his sins every time.

**Author's Note:**

> alt title: dont let your dreams just be dreams
> 
> thanks for reading about dirty old man achilles i do love that guy


End file.
